


Crowded

by dramaticinsanity



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Ace Wolfgang, Asexuality, Cuddling, Drunkenness, Harry is jealous of himself and himself, Incompatible senses of humor, Jealous Harry, M/M, Pining, Sleepover of sorts, Suicide Mention (in theoretical terms), drunk cuddling, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticinsanity/pseuds/dramaticinsanity
Summary: Unexpectedly, Harrison is contending with his genetic identicals—for Cisco Ramon. Their newfound camaraderie with Cisco has him feeling left to gather dust.





	Crowded

**Author's Note:**

> This silly idea just would not leave me alone.  
> I’m not sure how well I captured these two doppels… funny enough I didn’t really like them at first but… they grew on me! Don’t tell the others… but after Harry and H.R., Herr Wells is my favorite. Can’t decide who gets more bonus points for fourth place though… Wells 2.0 for calling his Cisco delicious or Lothario for flashing poor (lucky) E1 Cisco. X’D
> 
> Warning that Lothario and Wolfgang are kinda rude to each other about their opposing levels of sexual desire/activity.

Harrison Wells, nicknamed Harry, stops dead in his tracks upon entering Cisco’s apartment. The sight that greets him is equal parts mesmerizing and disturbing. Cisco is sandwiched between two of his doppelgangers. At least it’s not in a sexual way. He may have disintegrated on his own power right then and there.

Cisco grins up at him, eyes bleary.

Lothario Wells has his legs sprawled open, and his arm is slung across Cisco’s shoulders. Cisco is pressed against him, from knee to shoulder. Lothario points and giggles at something on the television. Harrison’s eyes slide over it without a spark of recognition.

On Cisco’s right, there’s Harrison Wolfgang Wells, his legs tucked under him and nose tucked in Cisco’s neck. His eyes flicker to the movie when Cisco rattles off some bit of trivia. He asks appropriate questions to keep Cisco going. Harrison is certain that Wolfgang’s interest does not lie with the meaning of the words.

As if it couldn’t get stranger, they’re all in unusual states of dress. Cisco has an entirely black ensemble with little shiny lightsabers. Lothario is wearing a rainbow low-cut tank-top paired with fuzzy green pants covered in UFOs. Finally and most disconcerting, Wolfgang is wearing nothing but boxers and [socks](https://imgur.com/Ut1VJIU) decorated with _kittens_ , of all things. Cisco’s arm is wrapped around his bare torso, thumb rubbing circles. Wolfgang also has one hand on Cisco’s knee. His glasses are snug atop Cisco’s mane of hair.

Wolfgang snuffles and drools a little on Cisco’s crookedly buttoned shirt, but no one seems to care. Neither Wells appears to have noticed him, or they don’t bother to acknowledge him.

Anger, vile and acidic, burns through his stomach. He just stops himself from dragging the two _encroachers_ away from _his_ Cisco. He doesn’t understand why he’s so suddenly wild with possession. He holds back, only with the desperate hope they’ve done nothing beyond the chaste.

He also notes they’re all clearly drunk. But there’s no signs of alcohol in the vicinity.

It’s a little superfluous, but he asks, “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah we hit a club,” Cisco replies, voice husky.

Lothario nods along needlessly. “Haven’t had so much _pure_ fun in a while! Dancing and laughing - Cisco even got Wolfgang over there on the floor.”

“Figured out how to get in his cracks is all.”

“Oh, I’d like to get in someone’s crack alright -”

Wolfgang heaves a loud sigh. “I’ve had enough. I am tired of your lewd jokes Lothario. Not everyone is as promiscuous as you!”

“How do you know you don’t want it if you’ve never tried?”

“I am not having this discussion again, it’s called _asexual_.”

“A sexual being lurking within you.”

“The only one hiding is you - behind this facade,” Wolfgang retorts, motioning at Lothario up and down for emphasis. He raises his chin in a haughty manner. Lothario looks like he might explode.

Cisco glares, expression fierce, from one to the other. “Stop! Stop.”

To Harrison’s shock, they both freeze. Their mouths snap shut, and they avert their eyes from one another. Lothario pouts.

“Be nice to each other or so help me.”

Harrison says low and deadly, “What exactly are you all doing?”

Cisco raises his eyes to find Harrison’s unblinking gaze. His dark and dilated eyes send a message to Harrison’s nether regions.

“Pajama party moviethon my good man,” Lothario says in an enthusiastic tone. Harrison is disgusted.

Then, Lothario looks accusingly at Wolfgang. “Someone ain’t familiar with the concept of nightwear.”

“I left these on merely for Cisco’s sake, since I take rest in the nude.”

“The so-called asexual comfortable to sleep naked, imagine that.”

“As if lack of intercourse precludes me from comfort with the natural human form.” Wolfgang snaps, “I did not know you to be an extraordinary dolt.”

“I’m getting a headache,” Cisco proclaims.

Cisco speaks as though breathless. Harrison registers the sound, for later exploration. The kind that requires being alone in a bedroom with a bottle of lube. Harrison crosses his arms, stepping closer to the couch. He takes advantage of his height and raw dark energy. Cisco squints up as Harry overshadows him.

“I think that may be the alcohol.”

Cisco shifts under Harrison’s attention. He does not look away even as he tries to melt into the couch. Cisco purses his lips. He seems dazed, but he’s concentrating as though trying to read Harrison’s mind. He’s thankful that’s outside of Cisco’s skill set, because he imagines cupping his cheeks and kissing him. Even with present company to witness.

Harrison breaks eye contact and fidgets, rubbing his sweater. The feel of the fabric under his sensitive palms is diverting.

“He called me stupid,” Lothario announces belatedly. He is pouting again.

Harrison’s doppelganger sounds like a child complaining about his older sibling.

No wonder Cisco has a headache. Were they like this all night? Who is he kidding, he’s previously been subjected their clashing personalities. At the time though, there had been a certain urgency, and a focal point to discuss. Harrison had a purpose for suffering their constant back and forth insults. Even then, he eventually reached a breaking point.

Each is as theatrical, and then there’s the distinction between Lothario’s sultry drawl and Wolfgang’s crisp delivery. It’s all grating on his nerves. He wants to search for alcohol, but he might do something he’ll regret in the morning. Like strangling one of them. Or worse, losing control and getting Cisco’s perfect lips to meet his.

“Just ignore him, he’s being a brat,” Cisco commands, now more alert.

“I am allowed,” Wolfgang says. “Someone with my exact DNA does not think asexuality exists.”

“I believe in it, I just don’t think you have it.”

“My exact point! It’s not a thing you have, like a disease.” Wolfgang is near to crawling across Cisco’s lap. Some of his words cause spittle to hit Lothario in the face. For some reason, he counters by hissing through his teeth.

“Guys! You’re both smart and valid, quit arguing.”

“I was attempting to enlighten my counterpart, it’s not my fault he’s slow on the uptake,” Wolfgang responds.

Cisco graces him with a fond smile. He strokes back the strands of hair that fell in his face. Wolfgang tilts his head back as that hand continues to the back of his neck, before retreating at last. Lothario blinks, three rapid times.

He launches forward but Wolfgang blocks him easily. He grits his teeth and twists Lothario’s wrist expertly. Harrison wouldn’t have expected him to have the capability. One really shouldn’t judge the contents of the book based on the cover alone. He clenches his fist like he might go as far as punching. Cisco places a soothing hand on his arm. Lothario sways, face blanched all of a sudden.

Lothario collapses like his strings were cut. He ends up with his face on the couch cushion, between Cisco’s legs. Lothario groans and clutches his stomach. Harrison tenses. He recovers, balancing himself with a hand on Cisco’s thigh. It’s unfair.

Harrison’s eye has been drawn to Cisco’s crotch. Wherein, he notices a slight bulge. But Cisco is gazing directly at him.

Lothario points at Wolfgang and opens his mouth. He doesn’t get the chance to speak. Cisco places his hands flat on their chests and pushes them off his lap. They pointedly stare in opposite directions. Cisco quickly crosses his legs. Harrison’s eye twitches.

Something occurs to him.

“Why are they here? On this Earth?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Where’d Lothario get those… clothes. Did he bring them? Was this premeditated all along or spur of the moment?”

“I’m too drunk for this interrogation. Oh my god. I bought them for him.”

“He referred to it as a… a shopping spree,” Wolfgang adds and stretches out his legs in front of him. He crosses them at the ankle. “I detest the totality of this Earth’s offerings.”

“He said I looked cute,” Lothario offers, visibly preening. Harrison wants for him to shut up.

“I’m cuter,” Wolfgang complains.

Cisco sighs, but it’s soft, adoring.

“You’re not… cute exactly.”

Cue the pout, version-Wolfgang. Lothario lets out a snort.

“I’d say you’re pretty, Wolfy. You’re equally handsome as hell, though.”

Lothario swallows his laughter and chokes. A little smile transforms Wolfgang’s face. His eyelids droop, and he presses forward until his nose settles on Cisco’s collarbone. He curls a sock-clad foot around Cisco’s ankle. He seems content, despite the position looking inconvenient. Cisco becomes trapped in Harrison’s hollow stare when he looks up.

“Uh, what now?”

“The compliments. Why.”

“I’ve found the best way to soothe bickering Harrisons is to shower them in praise and stroke their egos. It’s becoming a habit though, help me, I can’t stop.”

“You are extremely inebriated Ramon. And you brought this upon yourself,” Harrison replies.

Lothario murmurs, “I can stroke sum’in between yer legs if ya’ like.”

“Restrain your libido,” Wolfgang says, pulling away. He keeps his hand firmly pressed on Cisco’s thigh, however. He grinds his teeth, and his sneer should win an award.

“Impossible. Reigns free, sweetheart.”

Harrison resists the urge to facepalm. A version of himself called another version of himself “sweetheart”. They argue about the nature of one’s sexuality and who is more attractive. They’re slobbering all over Cisco Ramon. How is anything real? He should leave now and pretend none of this happened.

“Loth, stop bullying your doppelganger.” Cisco pulls out his hand from somewhere and pats him.

“And Wolfgang… he’s from an Earth of consisting mainly of hedonists. Give him a break.”

“Sure.”

“Fine.”

“Apologize?” Cisco pleads.

“I’m sure it’s groovy being ace. I’m sorry I can’t see why.”

“I regret stooping to your level.”

Cisco gives a slight roll of his eyes. “Close enough.”

Harrison is amazed, despite himself. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Cisco.

“Don’t know. Just got a few drinks in them and showed them some dance moves - well Wolfy at least, Loth is bitchin’ already - and they started listening to me.”

Wolfgang speaks up in Lothario’s direction, “And I add, your repertoire of dance manoeuvers is quite impressive, despite the lascivious manner.”

Lothario blinks in surprise. “Well - I - well. Thank you.”

Harrison shakes his head. He can’t wrap his mind around all of this. He doesn’t want to imagine versions of himself busting moves at a club. He still doesn’t approve of all the physical contact. It’s painful to look at. He glances at the TV screen. The movie had been paused at some point.

“You can join us,” Cisco offers.

Harrison considers walking out. Without another word. Then he remembers that he sleeps here now, on the sofa bed. He also doesn’t want to leave these two alone with Cisco all night. He steps forward. Cisco clicks his tongue and wags a finger at him.

“Pajamas only!”

“... _Wolfy_ is wearing nothing except boxer shorts and socks!”

“Yes but they’re matching and have kittens on them. And there’s the garters.” Cisco says. As though it’s a perfectly valid reason.

He grabs his sleepwear from behind the couch, out of his bag, anyway. His are simply a S.T.A.R. labs long sleeve shirt and black sweatpants. He stomps off toward the bathroom regardless of protests behind him. He almost misses Cisco watching his ass, and he feels a small thrill of satisfaction. He sobers upon remembering his doppelgangers share his physical attributes. And Cisco saw them dancing.

He’s followed by Lothario’s, “We’ve all seen it! Between me sans pants and Mr. Shirtless, even Cisco!”

Cisco groans, and Harrison slips a smirk. No one can see it. He changes, content in his privacy, because he possesses both shame and dignity. He wonders if his doppelgangers were born without those qualities, or the immodest duo had them removed. Cisco hits play on the movie when he returns.

He looms.

“Scoot.”

Lothario glares at him, not perturbed. “I was here first, ya varmint.”

Harrison isn’t convinced.

“Move. Over.”

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a bunch Scary Harry,” Lothario grumbles.

But he shuffles to the arm. He leans on it, slinging his arm over the back still. Harry pushes it down. Instead of direct retaliation, Lothario stands up and squeezes in between Cisco and his other double. Wolfgang releases a pained noise at the severance, but he’s too sloshed to struggle. Cisco’s forced to get in close to Harry, who finds a blush crawling to his cheeks. Any closer, and Cisco would be in his lap. Harry banishes that mental image as quick as possible.

Harry tests his luck. His hand creeps slowly toward Cisco's which is resting by his leg. He gently slides his hand until their palms touch, warm and dry. Cisco passes him a secret smile. It's like a beacon of hope to his heart. Something in his chest throbs, and he retracts his hand.

Cisco curves his fingers in and tries to trap him in place, but he rips his hand away with more force than he intended. He pretends to stretch to cover it up. Harrison pushes his own sleeves up to his elbows. He forces himself to not be affected by Cisco's confused frown.

"Accident," he mutters.

He casually cups Cisco’s shoulder on the opposite side instead. Cisco doesn’t speak a word to reference the position.

“Didn’t put up much of a fight,” Harrison admonishes his playboy counterpart.

Lothario turns his gaze on Harrison. He considers his phrasing. He probably shouldn’t encourage violence, especially since his doppelgangers don’t get along. A battle did almost ensue earlier. Some part of Harrison just wants to show off his physical ability, he can admit to himself. They don’t blink until Cisco lets out a light cough.

“You came at me like some kinda crocodile. Biting my head off and shit. I ain’t ‘bout to mess --”

“Crocodiles drown their prey. No decapitation.”

“Whatever. If it isn’t sex related, or can be used for sex some way, I don’t care.”

“I would think he is capable of that as well,” Wolfgang says with a delighted cackle. “Be wary around bodies of water, Lothario.”

“No killing your doppelgangers!” Cisco shouts. Then he winces.

“I think I’m hungover already.”

There’s a silence.

“By definition, would that count as suicide or homicide?” Wolfgang ponders aloud, squinting at them.

It becomes clear to Harrison that he’s nearly blind without his glasses. He plucks them from Cisco’s head. However the hell they got there, Harrison doesn’t want to think about. He returns them to their rightful place. Wolfgang actually mumbles his gratitude and adjusts them how he likes. He makes a face and jerks his hand away. It’s as though he can’t stand to touch the glasses any longer, which confuses Harrison.

“Both,” Cisco answers.

“Definitely both,” Harrison agrees.

“I’ll take one for the team and off myself - therefore I no longer have to be subjected to the stories of Lothario’s conquests.” This is declared by Wolfgang. It’s accompanied by a vicious scowl and many of his two-fingered hand gestures: the drunk edition.

Lothario holds his palm up and looks away in a childish response. Wolfgang’s ears turn red fast, his frown deepening and pulling down his brow too. Cisco reaches over and shoves his arm down. Harrison is glad, as Wolfgang was teetering toward a conniption.

“I’m surrounded by morbid and sexually repressed fools,” Lothario whines.

He corrects himself saying, “Except Cisco. He’s the best.”

Harrison huffs in his direction. He’s not _repressed._ His abstinence in recent years is a reasonable _choice_. Nor is he particularly morbid for that matter. Well, he is a ray of light only compared to Wolfgang. But Lothario is being quite unfair to Wolfgang on the other thing, as he can’t actually change it.

A fool on the other hand, Harrison might be headed there. He casts a longing look at Cisco. He barely averts his gaze in time, as his surreptitious stare seems to have called Cisco’s attention.

Lothario’s body starts to list to his left. Harrison tries to will him not to fall on Cisco’s lap, tries to beam the command right into his mind.

Wolfgang attempts to stay annoyed, but his head falls back, and he gurgles.

“I cannot feel my - anything. Why have you done this to me Cisco?”

“Hey, I just suggested the drinks. You drank them.”

“He’s got you there.” Lothario’s smile is dreamy.

He promptly sprawls across Cisco’s lap, asleep. The credits have finished rolling, unnoticed by everyone except Harrison. Cisco is grinning down at the sleeping Wells. Wolfgang is attempting to shoot laser beams from his eyes. Harrison wishes he could hate them all. He leaves the couch in search of booze.

«»

When Harry wakes, he’s very warm. At first he thinks -- hopes -- that it’s Cisco’s weight on his legs. But when he glances down, it’s Lothario’s obnoxious honey-colored curls that he sees. Lothario is hugging his legs like a pillow. His bottom half is hanging off the couch, but somehow he sleeps soundly, snoring. Wolfgang is squashed into the other side of the couch, despite Lothario’s awkward position giving him space. His face is rested on his arm, which is coated in drool.

Harrison ponders how they can all sleep in such uncomfortable situations. Maybe it’s a scientist thing. He doesn’t know if Cisco slept with them through the night or left as soon as they were all asleep. He doesn’t have the energy yet to determine his location, if he’s still in the apartment.

Next, he wonders if he looks as unattractive as his doppelgangers when asleep. Well, Lothario resembles a kitten. A large kitten combined with a chainsaw. He’s sure that’s what Cisco would say.

He smooths his hair, thoughts in disarray. He rubs his eyes with thumb and forefinger and tries not to think. Then the smell of bacon and eggs hits his nostrils, followed by coffee. Suddenly, he’s wide awake. Wolfgang must be similar to him in this regard, because he twitches like he’s been hit with an electric jolt. He sits up too quickly. He clutches his skull with a moan.

“Damn that Cisco. I am never taking the drink again.”

“Shut up,” Lothario mumbles. He groggily gropes for something.

Taking pity on him and worried about Lothario’s wandering hand, he pulls the pillow from under his head and gives it to him. Lothario covers his head with it. Wolfgang staggers to the bathroom, keeping a tight hold on his head.

Harrison strides into the kitchen, where he finds a far too sunny dispositioned Cisco. He loves Cisco to pieces. But he covers his eyes with a groan.

“You’re like the sun incarnate right now.”

“Does that make you Icarus or -”

Wolfgang materializes from thin air and interrupts, “Where is the coffee, little one. I receive coffee and no one receives bodily injury.”

“Dude you are just freaking _tall_. I am not that short!”

“I know and you are adorable. Coffee.”

“To your left.”

Harrison amuses himself by watching Wolfgang’s tired fumblings. He sniffs indignantly when Lothario pushes him out of the way to stumble into the kitchen. He hugs Cisco from behind then collapses on a chair.

“Love ya Frankieeeeee…”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but unlike my doppelganger on your Earth, I do not subscribe to that whitewash nonsense of a nickname.”

“He made a practical choice so people’d stop butchering his name.”

“By butchering it? I’m calling his logic into question.”

“Doppelganger? You have a counterpart on his Earth?” Harrison asks in surprise.

He never mentioned it. Did he tell Cisco because he’s Cisco? Or because he was intoxicated? He’s frustrated a version of himself didn’t trust… _himself_ with that information. He restricts his emotions before he has an outburst. He’s overreacting. It’s entirely possible they met too recently for Harrison to be aware. And he never did ask.

“Yeah, but. They’ve never had a conversation,” Cisco says, waving his spatula.

Wolfgang narrowly dodges it. He plucks it out of Cisco’s hand. He tosses it across the room, backwards over his shoulder. Harrison glares at him, because that is his damn shtick. Wolfgang lifts the coffee cup in a mock toast and settles in at the small table. His doppelgangers yawn simultaneously and support each other, shoulder to shoulder. It’s clear Lothario is less affected by his hangover, but it almost seems like an excuse for physical contact.

“Why are they so touchy?” Harrison whispers to Cisco.

Cisco smirks and pats him on the shoulder. Harrison grabs his wrist.

“They’re very tactile. Who knew?”

“It didn’t appear to bother you last night. Even a little.”

“Hey, sometimes a guy gets kinda. Touch-starved.” Cisco’s eyes dart to the fingers wrapped around his wrist. He is swift to let go. But Cisco chases his hand, to give it a brief squeeze.

He turns to concentrate on the breakfast he’s making. Harrison had no idea he could cook. He figured Cisco subsisted on Big Belly Burger, candy, and occasional takeout for variety. Cisco has been holding out on him. To be fair, he hasn’t made any attempt to cook either. The last time he cooked - he’s not sure if he’s ready to revisit those memories.

“Plus, Wolfy is a clingy drunk. Lothario is just giggly and his usual self besides that, probably due to a higher tolerance.”

Harrison nods. Internally, he’s perplexed. He can get affectionate and maudlin when he’s had a few too many. But he’s never been anywhere close to that blatant lack of inhibitions.

“Say Harry. What type are you?” Cisco blinks at him, eyes filled with curiosity.

“I’m not answering that,” he deadpans. Cisco pouts a little as he fills the plates.

“Y’know it’s interesting, seeing behind those walls you Wellses like to put up,” Cisco comments, apropos of nothing.

Harrison only offers him a noncommittal hum.

“Wolfgang is actually very sweet. He insisted on taking this drenched kitten to the shelter. In the rain. I’m sure we were a sight, and I think the desk person knew Harrison Wells’ face, because they turned white as a sheet,” Cisco continues anyway.

“When Wolfgang told the tale of woe, about Mozart the cat, it melted the hearts of everyone there. They forgot he seemed like a bad parody of an apparent murderer.”

Harrison stares at him uselessly. Cisco turns and puts plates in front of the other “Wellses”. Harrison slowly sinks into a chair, his drinks last night catching up with him. There’s a throbbing at his temple. Perhaps it’s caused by how badly he wants Cisco to speak of him in that lovey-dovey, borderline saccharine tone.

“Lothario is so funny. I mean his jokes are usually very… inappropriate. But I like how playful he is. Wolfy was complaining about how he wasn’t able to go to my doppelganger’s concert - yeah I’m a major rockstar there - so Loth stole his glasses and was chased all over the place.”

At that, Wolfgang grunts in annoyance. His expression sours. Lothario snorts and shakes him by the shoulder in a one-armed hug.

“It distracted you didn’t it?” Lothario says.

That explained why Wolfgang didn’t have his glasses, but not how they ended up on Cisco. Harrison hurries to ask, “Why did you have them?”

“They were playing tug-of-war. Then Lothario licked them, so they were contaminated.”

Cisco shrugs with one shoulder and settles in to eat. Harrison feels quite smug and sits up a little. Cisco has sat to his left, nowhere near his doubles. He eats methodically, while Cisco picks and pushes his food around the plate, occasionally taking large bites.

“My spectacles are having an antibacterial soak when I return to my Earth. His tongue has, without a doubt, been to many dark and dangerous places.”

Lothario gives him a toothy grin. Harrison understands Lothario comparing him to a crocodile, if his shit-eating grins are anything like that. He also eats with the gusto of a predator during famine. He seems to engulf his entire meal in one bite. He finishes long before anyone else, and he stretches and sighs like he ran a marathon. He pats his stomach and walks toward the living room.

“Wash your hands!”

“Yes, mother,” Lothario grunts, but he complies. His hands are a sticky mess from drowning his waffles in syrup and having no table manners in sight.

Wolfgang eats slow and precise, Harrison expected nothing else. He realizes that the bacon, syrup-less waffles, and white eggs are all on separate plates. He rolls his eyes.

“He’s a grown man. Must you baby him?”

“Last thing I need is an upset Wells on my hands. They’ll never find my body.”

“Fair point,” Harrison allows, and scoops up a bite of admittedly delicious eggs.

He downs a couple of pills, then retreats to clean himself up in the bathroom. When he stalks out, he sinks into the couch. His headache is ebbing away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lothario and Wolfgang whispering. Their voices are fast, with an edge of urgency. He watches them. They glance at him but say nothing. Wolfgang points at Cisco, and Lothario shakes his head. He points more aggressively, then Lothario huffs and throws up his hands. He intercepts Cisco between the kitchen and living room and speaks to him sotto voce. Even straining, and nearly falling off the couch in the process, Harrison cannot hear them.

He stands with arms akimbo and shoots a frustrated look at Wolfgang. His eyes widen, and he slinks away, far from Harrison’s range. Meanwhile, Lothario and Cisco are shaking hands, for reasons unknown. Lothario looks self-satisfied and gives Harrison a significant look he can’t decipher. He goes to pester Wolfgang, who is already making a second cup of coffee.

“What was that about?”

Cisco flops down beside him and switches on the television. He’s not actually interested in anything on it. His eyes are intense and thoughtful.

“We made a deal. They’ll -- Lothario and Wolfgang -- make a move for the person they have crushes on -- if I do the same.”

Harrison’s eyebrows twitch up, but he keeps most of his reaction under control.

“I thought they wanted --” He bites down and inhales sharply. He’s not going to be that obvious.

“What? Tell me Harry.”

He growls and digs his fingernails into his palms.

“I thought they wanted you.”

Cisco laughs. It’s a beautiful sound.

“They do. Just not _me_ me.”

“What.”

“My doppelgangers. On each their Earths.”

“That doesn’t --”

“Freak me out?”

Harrison nods. He tenses, baffled, as Cisco leans close to him. His breath is a fresh burst of mint-citrus, though with the underlying scent of bacon. It suggests he had been awake for a short time before making breakfast. It occurs to him that Cisco is probably someone who would have taken a picture of the three of them. He will locate it for research purposes then erase it from existence. For now, Cisco is soft and solid in front of him and nothing else matters.

Cisco’s hands settle on his knees, and Harrison’s hands find his shoulders.

“Because it’s you.”

Cisco kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Harry may have mentally suppressed anything that happened after he drank, and Cisco is letting him. It would totally come back to bite him in the ass though.


End file.
